


Until Next Summer

by wherethesinscry



Category: Heartstopper (Webcomic), Solitaire - Alice Oseman
Genre: American author, Oliver's POV, i came up with this idea before loveless i swear, im making up all the british stuff, it's not the same plot as loveless it just has the same themes, no one reads heartstopper looking for hetero romance but i'll provide it anyways, set about ten years after solitaire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25552999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wherethesinscry/pseuds/wherethesinscry
Summary: Oliver's older siblings both fell in love at an age younger than he is right now.He's given himself one year to find someone to fall in love with.
Relationships: Jane Spring/Julio Spring, Michael Holden/Victoria "Tori" Spring, Nicholas "Nick" Nelson/Charles "Charlie" Spring, Oliver Spring/Original Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	1. August 22nd -  Prologue

For some reason people loved having their weddings on hot days. That was all I could think as we gathered on the bright French beach for Nick and Charlie’s wedding. It was a strange thought for me to have, because it was the first wedding I had ever been to. Still, I was sure that every wedding I was to attend for the rest of my life would require me to wear a full suit in extreme heat.

The suit was Dad’s idea. He wanted the immediate Spring family to all wear close to matching outfits, that way all the other guests would subconsciously know who we were and know which parents to congratulate. Dad, Michael, and I were all in classic black suits with purple ties and pocket squares. The fabric was far from breathable. Mum and Tori were in breezy lilac dresses that seemed much more comfortable than our suits. Not that I’d wear a dress to a day that was supposed to be all about Nick and Charlie, but the lack of sleeves on the dresses was appealing.

The ceremony was boring. I let my ears tune out Nick’s words and let my eyes drift around me. The setting was perfect, really. It was just past noon and the sun was high in the sky. The ocean sparkled and splashed. The sand was white and fine. The wedding arch and chairs had been set up directly on the beach, which meant that everyone had small bits of sand in their shoes. I doubted anyone was going to complain about it. Especially if they were around Nick and Charlie.

I think Mum noticed I was zoning out, because I felt her elbow lightly budge my ribs. I decided that it was probably better I pay attention. It was my brother’s wedding, after all.

“Nick.” Charlie was talking. I must have missed all of Nick’s vows. He held cue cards in his left hand and a mic in the other. “Most people don’t get to say they met the love of their life at age fourteen. They meet them at age seventeen, maybe, but more likely once they’ve started uni, or gotten their first job, or gotten their second job, or sometime in their thirties after a series of failed Tinder dates.”

People laughed at that. I didn’t find it particularly funny, but I supposed they were just being polite. It was his wedding, after all.

Charlie continued.

“But I met you, Nicholas Nelson, at age fourteen. It wasn’t love at first sight, but you already know that I had feelings within a week. Back then I never thought you’d like me back. And yet here I am, standing at the altar with you. Just think what fourteen-year-old Charlie would have said if he could see what was coming to him.”

People laughed again. It still wasn’t funny. I decided it was time for me to zone out again. The nudge Mum gave me was a distant memory, and I was suddenly uninterested in Nick and Charlie’s lifelong love and happiness.

They fell in love at an age younger than I was that day. So did Michael and Tori, who were sitting just to the right of Dad. I snuck a peek at them. Michael had quiet tears running down his smiling face, and Tori was looking up at him like she was in love with him. Which she was. I was sandwiched between Mum and Dad, keeping them from doing anything publicly romantic, but I was sure both of them were reminiscing on their own wedding as they watched their son go through the same thing. I couldn’t compete with the love the people in my family felt.

My name was Oliver Jonathan Spring. I was seventeen years old, and I had never been in love.

I’d had girlfriends. I’d had five girlfriends in the past three years. But I’d never been in love.

I’d said ‘I love you’ but I’d never been in love.

That needed to change.

Nick and Charlie exchanged rings, kissed, and were married. We cheered and moved on to the reception.

Nick and Charlie were married. Their love forever sealed in a legal contract. Nick was officially my brother-in-law. He’d felt like an older brother to me since I was six years old, but it was a legal relationship now.

A year.

That was how much time I had to fall in love.

That was how much time I was giving myself.

A year from that moment I would have it all figured out. I would know what uni I was going to, I would know what I would be studying, and I - goddamn it - was going to fall in love.


	2. September - Chapter One

The first day back to school was uneventful in the way the first day back to school always is. 

There’s new classes, sure, but by the time you’re in your final year at Truham Grammar School for Boys you walk through the wide oak doors already knowing what classes you’re taking and who your teachers are going to be.

There’s seeing your friends, sure, but I kept in contact with them over the summer, so it wasn’t special at all. It was just like every other school day I was going to have to live through, only with very limited amounts of work assigned.

At lunch I found myself sat next to Tim Nguyen, and across from Carson and Lucas Walters. That was my friend group, and we always sat like that during lunch. I was eating my sandwich, they were talking.

“You free after school?” Tim asked.

“Yeah.” That was either Carson or Lucas. I would have been able to tell had I been looking up, but with my eyes fixed on my sandwich I couldn’t tell the difference between their voices.

“We should hang out.”

“Yeah.”

“You guys wanna get some food?”

“We could just go to our house.” Carson or Lucas cleared his throat. “I got a new game, bring your computer we can multiplayer.”

“Don’t have it with me.”

I felt myself slipping away from this conversation. I liked my friends, but my interest in video games is limited to Mario Kart and Minecraft. I don’t like what Mum calls ‘point-and-shoot’ games.

“We could drop by your house?”

“Sure.”

“You coming?” 

It took me a second to realize that Carson or Lucas was talking to me. I looked up from my sandwich. All three of my friends were looking at me, but Lucas was looking at me most intently. He must have been the one who asked the question.

“I dunno. My parents want me home,” I lied.

“Sucks. Did you guys hear James is back?”

The conversation moved on without me. I didn’t mind. School was out in less than three hours, you can’t just throw plans at me less than three hours before they’re supposed to take place and expect me to come along. I don’t work like that.

-

I took the bus home. I always took the bus home, since there was almost no reason for me to learn how to drive in a town as small as I lived in. Anywhere I needed to be I could either bus or bike. Although many kids my age thought the bus was something for rowdy pre-teens, the poor, and the elderly, I found it quite relaxing. Later in the winter I was sure that I would find the bitter cold to be more unpleasant than calming, but the warm September breeze was quite nice.

The bus stop was next to the grassy field in front of Truham. I could see down a row of houses, and down the hill from where I stood I could see our excuse of a down town. Behind me was the looming school, and in the distance was the other looming school, Higgs. It was quiet. The sun was partially hidden behind the clouds. There was still a first-day-of-school buzz of excitement coming from the students leaving the school, but it was distant enough that I couldn’t hear the specifics of it.

At the bus stop there was no one I knew and no obligation to hold conversation with people I didn’t particularly get along with. There was a group of younger boys who had no interest in me, which I was very thankful for. There was a group of girls huddled around phones and making plans. I saw Tim, Lucas, and Carson cross the street a block down from the bus stop. They didn’t notice me, and I made no move to acknowledge them. I had rejected their invitation with a lie, I didn’t need to risk them discovering that.

The only other people heading towards the bus stop was a pair of redheads much closer to my age. I made brief eye contact with the taller of the pair - the guy - and then looked away as quickly as I could. It was always a mistake to make eye contact. I just hoped he wouldn’t know me or try to start a conversation with me.

“Oliver!”

Obviously my hope was not enough.

I looked at the red head. I’d seen him before, that was undeniable, but I didn’t quite know when. “Hey,” I said. I hoped it didn’t sound like a commitment to a conversation. I also hoped he didn’t realize I couldn’t remember his name.

“It’s me.” That wasn’t helpful at all. “James.”

Oh.

James Atwood.

“Shit, really? You look…” I searched for a word that wasn’t too mean or pervy or anything. “Different.”

He chuckled, which wasn’t something I knew teenagers to be capable of. I thought chuckling was exclusively reserved for suave bachelors and old men. “Yeah, different. How are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good.”

“How was your summer?”

“It was good.” I was having the same conversation with James Atwood that I had had with every person I had ran into that day. It was boring. I looked a little closer at James. He definitely looked different. I hadn’t seen him since before sixth form started, and even back then we weren’t close. I would barely have called us acquaintances. Back then he was a skinny guy with shaggy red hair who most people assumed to either have been a pervert or a drug addict. Seeing him in that moment, he looked nothing like that. He was filled out and his hair was cut short. With his hair out of his eyes I got the first good look at his face I think I’d ever had. He was handsome, and his freckles were bright orange against his pale skin. His outfit was similar to mine. In fact, it was identical to mine. Right down to the Truham emblem on his chest. 

“Truham?” I pointed at it. If he went to Truham I was sure I would have seen him in the past year.

“Yeah. I’m back.”

“Where’d you go?” I hadn’t thought about James in forever. I hadn’t even noticed when he left.

“Higgs. But it wasn’t for me, too many girls.” The redhead girl next to James punched him in the shoulder. She had the Higgs crest on her shirt, it was obvious why she had done so. She might have been James’s sister or cousin or something, but I didn’t really know. They both had bright red hair, pale faces, and freckles, but those were all the similarities I could see. “So now I’m back.”

“Good to have you back.” I looked at the red head girl. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Oliver.”

She held out her hand. How oddly formal.

“Molly.”

I shook her hand. It was firm but the skin on her palm was soft. I looked between James and Molly and back again. “Are you two…”

I didn’t need to finish. “Siblings,” James informed me.

“Ah.”

The natural lull in conversation lined up perfectly with the arrival of the bus. By some unspoken agreement we all sat together once we were on the vehicle. James and I sat next to each other on a bench, and Molly in front of us with her head turned at an angle so she could still be a part of the conversation.

“We should hang out,” James said.

“Okay,” I agreed. But I didn’t know if I would follow through. I didn’t know James as well as he was acting like I did. Maybe he just was trying to make friends after a year away. I could respect that.

“Did you hear about Dean’s party on Saturday?” I hadn’t heard about it, but Dean Sneckman had a party almost every Saturday, so it didn’t surprise me. “You should come.”

Molly popped into the conversation before I had the chance to respond. “Can I come?”

“You weren’t invited.”

“Oliver wasn’t invited.”

“But he’s Oliver, he knows Dean.” That was a stretch.

“I know Dean.”

“No you don’t.”

“Why don’t you want me to come?”

“You wouldn’t have fun.”

Their banter had a sort of sibling back and forth that I could always detect but never relate to. Charlie and Tori spoke just like Molly and James did, and I was never involved. Something about being eight years younger, probably. 

“Fine.” Molly’s tone changed completely. “I won’t go. But I’ll tell Mum where you are when she asks.”

“Fine. You can come,” James sighed. “But if Dean kicks you out because you weren’t invited you can’t blame me.”

Even with the ‘but’ Molly still celebrated her victory. She did a funny little dance in her seat. There was something very cute about that. She was, objectively, a very cute person. Her face was shiny, her hair was the vibrant sort of red that makes you need to rub your eyes, but it was clearly natural. She also had a bright smile and shiny white teeth. I genuinely didn’t believe there were people out there in the world who brushed their teeth twice a day every day, but the white of Molly’s teeth made me think that maybe she was one of those people.

“Will you come?” James was speaking to me again.

“Sure,” I said. I cursed myself inside my brain for promising to do something. I hated doing things. My plan for every day this week and weekend was to watch Netflix, eat food, read, masturbate, and sleep. Spending time with guys like Dean Sneckman and James Atwood were not things I desired.

James and Molly got off the bus together - obviously - a few stops before me. The obligation of social interaction that weekend took the calm that the bus ride usually provided me with right out of my body.

-

Home was not my favorite place in the world. It wasn’t that I could never find peace or I didn’t like my parents. My parents were lovely people and my house was quite cozy - fit for a family of five and used by a family of three - but there was always an underlying stress when I was home.

Especially when I was at the dinner table. When I was in my bedroom earlier that afternoon I was having a fantastic time watching the later seasons of Grey’s Anatomy and texting Nicole Anderson as I watched the complicated plot unravel. She was the one who got me into watching it last spring, after all. My bedroom was nice. It was a sanctuary in my house. The dinner table felt something closer to a battlefield.

It was all in my head, I knew that. My parents just wanted to have a conversation with me. But it was so, so difficult.

“So,” Dad said around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “How was school?”

“Fine.” That wasn’t a good enough answer. I wracked my brain for something else to say, but all details from my day had left my memory. “I got to see Carson and Lucas and Tim again. That was nice.”

“Oh? How are they?”

“Good.” Add something else. “Tim went to Canada this summer.” I’d probably already told them that when it happened in early August, but it was better than saying nothing.

“You didn’t do anything after school today,” Mum observed. 

“Didn’t you want to hang out with your friends?” Dad asked. That was how it worked in my family. Dad asked questions and Mum observed.

“I hung out with them during lunch.” That was true. “And I’m seeing them this weekend.” That was probably true. It was likely at least one of them would be at Deans. “And I wanted to get a head start on work today.” That was a lie. I spent hours watching Grey’s Anatomy. I’d hardly classify that as work. But I needed a real reason I wasn't with friends. The reason in my brain was that I was tired and didn’t want to see them, but that wasn’t going to be good enough for Mum and Dad. That might worry them. I wasn’t hanging out with my friends because I wanted to do school work. Or if I wasn’t doing school work it was because I was at rugby practice or a match. Or if I wasn’t playing sport I was checking out a few meetings of Debate Team or Model UN or Mathletes or some other academic club that I eventually decided against, stating ‘I just didn’t find my people.’

I don’t think I’ll ever find my people.

“Good. Smart,” Mum observed.

That’s right. I’m good, I’m smart. The only thing I’m better at other than being good and smart is being problem free.

I needed this conversation to stop being about me. “How was your day?” I asked Dad.

Dad groaned in response. It was a weirdly happy groan because Dad was a weirdly happy person. Then he started telling us about his day.

The weight of conversation lifted from my shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading the first real chapter of this story!
> 
> I'm excited to be actually writing something that I get to share with the world, I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do.


	3. September - Chapter Two

Mum and Dad let me attend Dean Sneckman’s party that weekend based on three lies that I insisted were the truth.

1) There would be no alcohol. This was untrue. Not only would there be alcohol, I personally would be drinking it.

2) There would be adult supervision. This was untrue. Although technically Mr. and Mrs. Sneckman would be on the property, their house was big enough that their son could be hosting a party in their basement and they wouldn’t be able to hear it from half the rooms in their house.

3) I would be receiving a ride home from my good and responsible friend Tim Nguyen. This, just like the previous two statements, was untrue. I would probably just end up walking home, but Mum and Dad would not approve of that, so I called on my good friend Tim for two reasons. One, he was the coolest guy I knew and if a situation arose where I would need to inform him of my lie, I was sure he would corroborate it for me. And two, his parent’s English was so broken that Jane and Julio Spring wouldn’t bother trying to call them to make sure I was doing what I said I was.

Despite my lifelong goal of being the perfect son, I had become a fantastic liar.

-

I had been to a number of Dean Sneckman’s parties before. I knew the drill. If you knocked on the front door you were an idiot. If you knocked on the back door you were a newbie. If you let yourself in through the back door, grabbed a drink from the cooler, and found a place to sit without ever acknowledging Dean’s existence then and only then were you in the know.

I was in the know.

The drink I grabbed was a White Claw. The place I sat was on the olive green couch next to Nicole Anderson.

“Hey, Oliver!”

Nicole was happy to see me.

She was also pretty drunk.

“You here alone?”

She knew me so well.

“Yeah. Where’s Bev?”

I knew her pretty well too.

“Hooking up with Dean, probably.” She gestured vaguely in what I assumed was the direction of Dean’s bedroom. “Mia and Alex are over there.” She gestured more specifically at two girls who I knew quite well. Mia Brock and Alexandra Wolcott were two points of a triangle next to the drink table. James Atwood was the third point of the triangle. Nicole leaned close to me. “They’re trying to find a Truham Boyfriend.” She giggled and excited my personal space. She sipped her drink, which I assumed to be Sprite and vodka. You can’t date someone for five months and not learn their favorite alcoholic beverage.

Nicole was the best person to be your ex-girlfriend. She was brunette, skinny-pretty, happy-faced, and all around wonderful. She liked foreign films and trash TV. Photography and writing. Hikes in the forest and walks on the beach. Her family took a vacation to the Swedish Alps every winter and a vacation to the Gulf of Mexico every summer. Her best friend was Beverly ‘Bev’ Morris.

Speaking of Bev.

“Wait,” I said. “Bev and Dean?”

Nicole scoffed a little. “Yep.”

“They’re dating?”

“Bev wants them to be, but you know what Dean’s like.”

I did know what Dean was like. He was a dick.

“I bet that’s tough on her.”

“Oh yeah.” She took a deep breath. “I want to just hold her steady and say ‘Bev, you’re better than this. You deserved so much more than Dean Sneckman.’” She sipped her drink. “She’d never listen to me. I just really want her to date a good guy. An actual good guy.” She turned to me, her face loose and smiling. “Maybe you should date Bev.”

I laughed a little at that. Nicole did too.

“That’d be weird,” I said. She probably already knew that.

“Super weird,” Nicole agreed. “At least we can all still be friends.”

We fell into a short silence.

“How’s Celeste?” Nicole asked.

Oh.

“She’s good. Single.”

“Oh. When?”

“July.”

“Oh.”

Two months ago.

Two months ago I broke up with Celeste Mendoza. We had dated for a shorter time than that. I knew from the beginning she was just a rebound after Nicole, and she knew that too. It meant that when I broke up with her she wasn’t that offended.

I was glad I didn’t have any beef with either of them. I could hold up a pleasant conversation with both Nicole and Celeste, although I crossed paths with Nicole much more often. We had more in common, so we were in the same place at the same time more often.

We were in the same place at the same time in Dean’s basement, sipping our drinks and chatting about the end of our summers and the beginning of our final year of schooling. Soon I lost her when she excused herself to get another drink and got caught up in a conversation with Mia and Alex.

I decided I needed to find someone else at the party I could talk to. There had to be someone there that I knew who wasn’t my ex-girlfriend. As much as I loved- liked my ex-girlfriend, I was sure guys like Dean Sneckman would talk if I didn’t have any other friends at his party.

I grabbed a new drink and circled the entirety of Dean’s basement. I drank the whole thing without finding someone to talk to. I was a modern tragedy. I grabbed a third drink and had plans to do the exact same thing again when I was approached by Alex Wolcott.

“We need help,” she said.

She led me to an emotionally distressed Bev, who already had Mia and Nicole by her side as they tried to calm her down. I must have had some sort of magic touch, because it only took me a few minutes of talking to her before she was calmed down enough to no longer look like she was on the verge of tears or an angry breakdown. She stayed in the partially calmed state until her mother was called and she drove away in Mrs. Morris’s Audi.

By the time that happened I was on my fourth drink. It was about two and a half shots of vodka and a splash of cranberry juice. Very classy of me, if I do say so myself. By the time I was done with it I was well on my way to being properly sloshed.

I sat and caught up with Alex and Mia through my fifth and sixth drinks. We used to be pretty close last spring, before me and Nicole broke up, and now we don’t see each other nearly as much and I wish we did. They’re good people, but I always thought of them as my girlfriends friends. It’s hard to make the switch from that to genuine friends.

I sent the final gulp of my drink down my throat and put the cup on the small table next to the couch. It was the same olive green couch that Nicole and I had been sitting on at the beginning of the night.

I checked the time on my phone. It was just past eleven. My parents expected me home at midnight. Despite the fact that I was going to be a legal adult in four months, they still kept a strict curfew. Ten on school nights and twelve on weekends. I doubted they would loosen it even once I turned eighteen.

I was suddenly aware of the pulsing pain of a full bladder.

I excused myself to the bathroom.

Dean’s bathroom was at the very end of a poorly lit white hallway. Sound didn’t reach that part of his basement as well as the rest of the party space, and suddenly it felt like I was in a different place all together. I spent long minutes on the toilet - I had sat down, afraid that if I tried to stand I would piss all over Dean’s pristine bathroom - and long minutes washing my hands. I felt like I was out of my body, but that was just because I was really drunk. I stared at the mirror and someone stared back at me.

The door fell open when I pushed on the handle, which shouldn’t have surprised me given that that’s how all doors work, but it still sent me tumbling to the ground.

“Shit, dude. You alright?”

I rolled off my face and onto my back. The source of the voice was a pretty girl in short jean shorts and a pink tube top. She was really pretty. She was Molly Atwood.

“You good?” There was genuine concern in her voice.

“Yeah,” I slurred, fully aware that I did not look good. I probably didn’t even look fine. And I definitely didn’t feel good or fine.

“Sure.” I could hear the disbelief in her tone. “Oliver, right?”

I nodded.

“Oliver. I’m gonna get you some water. Can you stay here until I get back?”

I nodded.

“Good.”

She left.

I pushed myself up onto my elbows. Having a whole conversation while laying down on the floor was embarrassing, and I needed to look a little more presentable when she returned. I scooted over to the wall opposite the bathroom door and leaned my back against it.

She was back quicker than I thought she would be.

“Here.”

I took the cup from her hands.

“Feeling better?”

“A little, thank you.”

She smiled. “No problem.”

We sat in silence for a moment. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, in fact it was quite the opposite. I liked having Molly there. I couldn’t imagine how sad it would have been for me if I was just sitting in that hallway alone. 

Actually I could imagine that. I’d definitely done that before.

“So.” Molly broke the silence. “Why’d you get so drunk?”

I didn’t think I was that drunk.

“Huh?”

“I mean, plenty of people get shit-faced for fun, but plenty of us are just trying to find a way to deal with our shit. What’s your shit?”

It was a strange question. Forward and accurate. Plenty of us were here for fun. Carson and Lucas weren’t at this particular party but they tended to get drunk just to cause chaos and have something to blame it on. Mia didn’t have anything that I knew of that she was running from, and neither did Nicole. But Bev and Tim had their fair share of shit thrown their way recently and had good reason to want to spend a few hours every weekend forgetting what their life is like.

There was something about Molly that made me want to open up to her.

I wanted to talk to her.

“I’ve never been in love.” I didn’t look at her as I said it. I didn’t want to see her reaction. “I mean, I’ve loved people. I love a lot of people. But I’ve never been in love.

“My brother got married last month. He met his husband when he was fourteen, which is absolutely ridiculous. I mean, who meets their spouse that young? Charlie, I guess. And Tori, too. She’s my older sister and she’s not married but she told Mum and Dad that Michael is planning a proposal. They met when she was sixteen, which is ridiculous. I haven’t met the person I’m gonna marry yet, and I know my siblings are anomalies and literally no one meets their love that young, but people fall in love at my age. I feel like I’m never gonna have some grand school romance. I want to fall in love.”

I took a breath. That was what I wanted to say. Well, there was more to it but Molly didn’t need to hear about it. She didn’t even need to hear about that, but I told her anyways. I didn’t know what it was about her, but I trusted her. To take me seriously, at least, if not to help me feel better.

She lifted the cup in her hand up in the air. “That’s why we drink.” We hit the cups against each other and took a sip.

“Why do you drink?” Usually people only ask questions like that because they want to answer it themselves.

She smacked her lips. “I like getting shit faced.”

Can’t argue with that.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been in love. You seem like such a lovable guy.”

“Yeah, I guess. But being lovable and being able to love are two different things.”

She placed her hand on my knee. Her fingernails were painted pink. “Who knows, maybe you’ll fall in love with me.”

I laughed. She didn’t.

“I’m being serious. This could be the start of your grand school romance.” Her hand that wasn’t on my knee was suddenly on my face. “Could I kiss you?”

That was not where I thought this conversation was going.

But I didn’t have any reason to say no.

“Sure.”

Then we kissed.

It wasn’t magical, but I’d come to realize that very few kisses are. And ones that take place as a drunken decision in the end of a hallway at a party hosted by someone you don’t like with someone you barely know are never magical.

Still, it was a fine kiss with a fine person.

It lasted for some amount of time longer than ten seconds and shorter than a minute. We were interrupted by a voice I knew well.

“Excuse me.” Then, “Hey, Oliver.”

Molly broke away from me. I got a quick glimpse at Alex and she pushed past me and Molly’s legs to get to the bathroom. She had a very ill-looking Mia draped over one shoulder. They closed the door behind them.

“Hey, Oliver.” The phrase was repeated by a voice I knew even better than Alex’s.

Nicole was standing at the end of the hallway.

It was a little awkward.

“Hey, Molly.”

Molly looked at Nicole. “Hey…”

“Nicole.” She completed her sentence for her.

“Nicole.”

It was very awkward.

“Don’t you have a curfew?” Nicole was talking to me again.

I did have a curfew, and it was probably coming up soon.

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Alex is driving me home. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind taking you home as well.”

“Cool. Thanks.”

Molly turned her head to me.

“You’re leaving?”

“I mean, I need to be home by midnight.” I didn’t exactly know what time it was, but I was sure it was approaching the time I needed to be back.

“Huh. Well.” She stood up. “It was lovely meeting you. I hope to see you around.” She walked out of the hallway. Just as suddenly as she entered my life, Molly was gone.

Nicole watched her as she left, then she turned back to me. Her face was full of skepticism. At least it wasn’t anger. “Wow. You and Molly?”

“No.” That was too harsh. Molly was nice, I just barely knew her. “I mean, I just met her tonight.” The conversation we’d had on the bus didn’t count.

“Ooh, tonight?” Her face of skepticism melted into something closer to teasing.

“Oh, shut up. I can have a life.”

“Of course you can.” She laughed.

Alex and Mia exited the bathroom.

“Can you drive Oliver home?”

Alex gave me a look - a little pissed off, as always - and then said, “sure.”

The four of us walked to her car, which was a block from Dean’s house. We were all quiet.

And I was still drunk, so fuck it. “Are you mad at me?”

Nicole looked at me like I was crazy. Mia and Alex were far enough in front of me that they probably didn’t hear. “Why would I be mad at you?”

I knew why she should be mad at me. Isn’t that what exes are supposed to do? When you see your ex boyfriend making out with someone in a hallway you’re supposed to get mad. You’re not supposed to offer them a ride home. I guess it’s just another reason Nicole is the world’s best ex-girlfriend. She’s just a good friend.

“I dunno. Nevermind.”

“I’m never mad at you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> I want to make this part of a bigger project, so please let me know if you're interested in knowing more about Oliver's story.


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